


Not Wanted Here.

by orphan_account



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Intrusive Thoughts, Tread carefully and I'm so sorry for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 07:00:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18047777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When I started this one-shot I was not expecting it to go in this direction, and I'm sorry for this.





	Not Wanted Here.

A couple bites in, she’s about to tell Andrea to get her something to drink from the fridge, when she sees her emerging from the kitchen with a chilled bottle of red wine. She’s wearing a two-piece bodysuit, sheer black lace over pale skin. Miranda’s never noticed how long Andrea’s legs are, and raises an eyebrow. “Andrea, are you aware of the fact that you’re wearing nothing but lingerie right now?”

 

The girl’s cheeks flush, and she immediately looks down, then gives a nervous, tittering laugh. “Oh. I was about to take a shower, but I realized that I should probably finish helping you with stuff.”  Her chestnut hair falls in messy ringlets off her shoulders, like she’d just gotten out of bed. 

 

“Mm,” Miranda hums, and keeps looking at Andrea’s lithe legs. True, she’s not as thin as the models she works with, but then again, no model has legs like that. She’s automatically planning a photoshoot in her head, even though she doesn’t particularly need nor want to. Legs, the backdrop a minimalistic shade of pink, no stockings, simple black lingerie, in a style reminiscent of 1950s pin-ups. Andrea would be straddling the floor with her legs spread provocatively, head tilted to the right. One hand would be resting atop the floor, the other running through her hair. She’d be looking right at the camera, with those earnest, dark eyes, and everyone that would see it would feel their heart stop, then quicken exponentially.

 

Miranda’s mind keeps wandering. Andrea on the floor, eyes pressed shut in ecstasy. Andrea looking sideways at the camera through long lashes, head tipped back against the wall. Andrea licking a sticky finger through red, pouting lips, then the digit dipping down into her-- Oh. Miranda gasps, realizing that she’d just been thinking of... of...

 

“Miranda, are you okay? Should I call a doctor?” Andrea sounds alarmed, and like always, looks concerned. Miranda’s not okay, and she doubts she ever will be again, because she had a sexual fantasy sequence involving her very young, very-not-male assistant.  But she just shakes her head and says, “I’m fine. That’s all.”

 

Andrea doesn’t seem to be remotely comforted by what she says, but she gives her a sidelong glance before heading down the hall. Meanwhile, Miranda tries to still her beating heart, and compose herself. She tries and fails, hopelessly.

 

Miranda closes her eyes. She’s not sure if anything like that has happened to her before. Oh god, of all the times to have a crisis over her sexual identity, it had to be here, in Spain. What on earth was wrong with her? Andrea doesn’t deserve to be objectified like that. Miranda isn’t one of those CEOs that take advantage of their assistants, the kind that ends up dragging down both their careers.

 

She doesn’t feel particularly hungry anymore, and she pushes her unfinished plate of steak away from her.

**Author's Note:**

> When I started this one-shot I was not expecting it to go in this direction, and I'm sorry for this.


End file.
